Frozen
by scribhneoir
Summary: Trying to find a way home, Ron finds that it's the little things that make all the difference. Originally written for weasleyfest.


"Ron, what's going on?" bleary eyed and wild haired, Hermione nearly fell out of the bed as Ron attempted to sneak out of the room.

"Sorry love," giving up on a stealthy exit, he sat back on the bed and started to lace up the boots which had previously been simply stepped into. "Emergency call from headquarters." he indicated the magical pager in his hand.

"Why is it that these emergencies always seem to happen in the middle of the night?" Hermione asked as she wrapped her arms around him and laid her head upon his shoulder.

"I'll make sure to ask them to be more considerate the next time, will I?"

"You do that..." the rest of her response was lost in an loud yawn.

"Well, that's making me feel so much better." Ron said with a small smile as he roughly rubbed his hands over his face in an attempt to get rid of the last vestiges of sleep which clung on desperately.

"Glad I could help."

He could hear the smile in her voice and willingly allowed her to turn his head towards her. A long, languid kiss definitely woke him up, but the tradition behind the action made the moment more poignant than it should have been.

Every time he got a call, and had to leave in the middle of the night, she would see him off with a long kiss and then...

"Be safe and come home soon." she whispered and he reluctantly left their bed and their room.

Another tradition was fulfilled as he quickly looked in on the children, both were safely sleeping, before he made his way to the fireplace and the jar of floo powder.

Grinning at the small Hugo-sized shoe he found amongst the floo powder, he took the steps needed to send him straight to head quarters.

"WEASLEY! What took you so long?"

The shout came through loud and clear before Ron has taken his first step from the fireplace and he came face to face with the head of the Auror Search and Rescue division. Martin Sloan was a rather small, wiry man who had been forced into a desk job by dodgy knees and a tendency to ruin undercover missions by shouting at the top of his lungs.

Ron's experience with the older man was only thing that kept him from taking a step back.

"What's the situation?" Ron strode across the bustling office and made his way to the lockers at the side of the room. Even in the early hours of the morning the large office was busy and full of hectic activity, although the internal delivery owls did appear slightly sleepy as they whizzed past.

The elder man growled slightly as he tried to keep up with Ron's long strides.

"McKay's team was on a reconnaissance mission to Alaska..."

Ron paused in his action to reach for his mission robes and instead reached for the heavy warm jacket which hung in the back of his locker.

"Suspected illegal activity in a village of unsuspecting Muggles, right?"

"If you'd let me finish my report Weasley, you'd find out." Sloan gave a tired sigh as he sat down on the nearby bench.

"Contrary to popular opinion, I do pay attention in the mission briefings, y'know?"

"I know son," the older man rubbed a tired hand across his face, "I know, I wouldn't trust this mission to anyone else."

"Any contact with the team?" Ron continued as he transferred his wand to its holster and zipped up the jacket.

"None, they missed their scheduled contact an hour ago and then we received their emergency distress signal twenty minutes ago."

Ron winced with the knowledge that if the team, supposed to be under deep cover in a Muggle area, had used their emergency signal then they were definitely in trouble.

"Any sign that its been traced yet?"

"Not yet, but it's only a matter of time, which is why we need you to get in there, assess the situation and retrieve the team as soon as possible."

"Right." Ron nodded, already running through every possible scenario in his head and trying to formulate an appropriate response. As the leader of the top Auror Search and Rescue team he was well used to dealing with the unexpected and never went into a situation without being at least aware of the dangers of the unknown. To be complacent was to ask for trouble, and it was Ron's experience that trouble found him often enough without him issuing an invitation.

"How many on the team?"

"Two person team."

"Backup?"

"You're to take Parkman with you."

The silence was telling as Ron paused in his preparations and turned to look at his boss.

"I know he's young and a bit green, but no better way to learn than to learn on the job, right?"

"I suppose, he's been fully briefed I take it?" The unknown was daunting enough, but to go into the unknown with an inexperienced colleague as backup was another thing altogether. Once again Ron regretted the fact that Harry, injured in the line of duty, was on sick leave for the next month at least.

He got a nod of affirmation and began to walk towards the portkey site, sparing a glance for Sloan who was nearly running to keep up.

"The portkey is set and programmed but you will have a limited amount of time before they trace the magical signal."

They dodged around a few colleagues who were focused on a large map as they walked.

"You will be transported to the site of the distress beacon, get the team and get them home."

Ron had to crack a smile,

"Simple as that?"

"Simple as that Weasley."

"The return trip?"

"Apparating won't be possible as they'll no doubt set up a blocking field once they detect your presence."

Ron simply nodded, already having figured out that eventuality. He was handed a Muggle torch and quickly placed it in a pocket.

"You won't be needing that in the conventional sense, it's a pre-timed portkey designed to take you back here."

"How long?"

"Thirty minutes. If you don't have them by that time then the suspects will more than likely be on top of you all and we'll have to regroup and think the plan through again."

They had arrived at the portkey site, a cleared spot in the middle of a deserted room, and Ron watched an impossibly young man fiddling with the zipper of his insulated jacket.

"Parkman is it?"

The hooded head snapped up quickly as Ron retrieved his fully supplied pack from one of the technicians waiting along the wall.

"Yes sir"

Ron could barely see the man's face beneath the lined hood and ducked a bit to meet the other's eyes.

"Don't call me sir."

"Sorry si…" he caught himself in time and Ron gave him a quick smile, noticing the nerves and vaguely remembering his first official mission.

"Don't worry about it," he gave him a thump on his shoulder as he moved to stand beside him, "Just keep your eyes open, be ready for anything, do what I tell you and…"

They reached for the battered tin bucket and Ron had to mutter to the tense younger man,

"...and unclench before you sprain something."

* * *

The terrain was as harsh as Ron had expected and he quickly orientated himself and Parkman, pulling the other man into a crouch. He retrieved his tinted glasses from his pocket and indicated that the other man should do the same.

"Right, keep low, we don't know if we've even been detected yet." He pointed to a large overhang of rock partially obscured by the snow which fell in flurries around them. "The signal from the team gave their position as that direction, lets move."

It was a silent and wary dash from one snow covered rock to another as they sought refuge and cover that the environment could not provide. Ron watched every footstep as they traversed the frozen terrain and tried to keep an eye of the foot falls of the other man as well.

"Freeze." a harsh whisper cut through the silence as Ron reached a hand to Parkman. He could see the uncertain smile amongst the lining of the hood.

"Is this another joke?"

Rolling his eyes and wondering just what they were teaching at the training academy these days Ron carefully tapped the fresh snow at the feet of the other man with the heel of his boot.

There was a stunned silence as some of the snow fell away and revealed a steep ice crevice stretching below them.

"Don't panic, just take a careful step back towards me."

"Yes sir." came the almost inevitable response as Parkman took one...then two...then three steps backwards before he let out a sigh of relief. "What the hell was that?"

Ron pulled them back into a crouch and pointed at their feet,

"Ice."

He pointed back to the crevice, which was still partly covered with snow.

"Fresh snow, more than likely means that it's covering something that we don't want to find by falling into."

"Agreed."

"Time's ticking on, let's keep moving."

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It was a mess, there was no doubt about it, but it was a mess with a time limit. Conscious of the fact that the time for the pre-arranged port key to activate was fast approaching, Ron carefully examined the scene. The missing team was situated on the edge of a cliff, partially shielded by a large overhang of what looked suspiciously like unstable snow. There was obviously more to the story than met the eye as one of them appeared to be suffering from a broken leg and the ruins of their camping gear lay scattered around them. Shrugging off the mystery as to what happened, Ron focused on the task at hand. His job was to get in and safely get the team home. Once that was accomplished, then the mystery could be solved.

Assessing the variables, Ron signalled McKay and then crouched down beside Parkman.

"We've got just under eighteen minutes to get everyone together and get home." he retrieved the coil of magically strengthened rope from within his pack and handed it to the other man quickly, and then added the reinforced pins to the collection. "Secure one end of the rope on this side."

"And then?"

A glare from Ron was all it took to send the other man scattering into action and he took the chance to have a good look at the drop which lay between them and the other team.

It was impossible to see the bottom of the drop.

"I want to get our team away from that overhang of snow as soon as possible, I'm pretty sure it's not going to hold much longer. Any magic is going to pinpoint our position and I'm not prepared to do that yet."

A determined nod was his response as he stood and held the coil of rope aloft for McKay to see. Hoping against hope that the other man would catch it, Ron took a deep breath and hurled the rope across the sheer drop which, having been blessed with depth, it thankfully lacked in distance.

The rope safely reached the other side and was similarly secured.

"Now..." Ron began to attach himself to the rope via a connecting belt and buckle which was looped tightly around his waist. "I'm going to get over there, send them back to you, you're going to take care of them, I'll get back and then we'll go home and start to defrost, how does that sound to you?"

"Sounds like a crazy plan sir."

Ron grinned slightly as he edged towards the drop, took his first step off into the unknown and put his trust in the magically reinforced materials holding him in the air.

"Sometimes, the crazy plans are the only ones that work."

McKay and his wounded team-mate were nothing if not professional. Anxious to get off the edge of the damned mountain they had listened to instructions and followed them to the letter. It had taken more time than any of them had anticipated but it was still impressive to watch a man with a broken leg haul himself across a length of rope.

With both stranded Aurors safely on the other side, Ron began to prepare for his return, all too aware of the portkey in his pocket.

The silence was abruptly broken by a faint rumble.

Looking across the gap, Ron saw that the attention of the others was focused on something above him.

The rumble grew louder and more ominous.

Remembering his precarious situation, Ron quickly withdrew the torch from his pocket and flung it across the sheer drop.

He saw it land safely in the outstretched hand of his team-mate before Parkman, and the two people clinging to him, disappeared in a flash of light and the weight of the world came crashing down upon his shoulders.

-------------------------------------------------

The darkness receded and was replaced by the shock of glaring and blinding white

Pinned by what he assumed was a huge amount of snow and ice, consciousness returned to Ron with an jolt.

Sucking in a breath of the freezing air was about all he could do as he was pinned from the shoulders down and could see nothing except the snow and ice below him. One arm remained free, suspended in front of him, mocking him with its immobility.

He wasn't even sure of how long he had been unconscious. Time didn't really matter and yet the one thing he could see clearly was the colourful Muggle watch attached to his wrist. A gift from Rose and Hugo on Fathers day.

Closing his eyes, desperate not to lose focus by thinking of those he loved, he tried to assess the situation as best he could.

Nothing was hopeless.

It was with a growing dread that he realised that he wasn't shivering anymore.

A part of his training screamed at him that that was a bad sign, that he should be worried by that realisation. But the darkness was beginning to return.

He was tired.

Tired of the wind...of the cold.

Familiar voices whispered across the frozen silence.

He turned his head as the ghost of a half forgotten moment hovered across the ice-covered expanse, a hint of a smile began and then was lost as the light of her voice flickered and then disappeared.

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Tired of physiotherapy and half hearted reassurances from medical staff, it had been two weeks since Ron had checked himself out of St Mungo's.

Two weeks of trying to reassure Hermione that he really would be fine.

Two weeks of making Hugo and Rosie smile by telling them that it was indeed their present which had saved their Daddy, the tinny alarm which Ron had never been able to deactivate alerted the searchers to his presence.

Two weeks of trying to convince himself that the long delay in rescue arriving, due to attempting to avoid detection, hadn't left him unable to do his job.

Two weeks of attempting to cast numerous spells with his injured right arm.

Two weeks of fighting against the shake which rattled his arm with every use due to the pressure exerted on nerves, tendons and bones by an indeterminable weight of snow.

It had been a long two weeks.

Hermione had finally left him alone for long enough to take Rosie to her friend's birthday party and Ron was grinning at the energetic presence of his son in the house.

"Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!"

Ron smiled as he sat at the kitchen table and waiting for his son to make his appearance. Being heard before he was seen was a particular Hugo talent. He slid into the kitchen.

Clad in pyjama bottoms covered in flying broomsticks and a purple jumper with a huge 'H' emblazoned upon it, Hugo was convinced he was ready to venture into the outdoors.

"Are you sure you're ready son?" Ron asked as he crouched before the three year old and fought back a grin.

"Yep!" Hugo wriggled his feet in the mismatched socks as he bounced on the spot.

"Nope, 'fraid not little man." Ron stood, turned his son back in the direction of his room. "Lead the way."

The pyjamas were replaced by a sensible pair of jeans but Ron let him keep the mismatched socks and they returned to the kitchen.

Hugo immediately plastered himself at the window gazing out at the scene before him. It was pure persistence on Ron's part that resulted in the little Weasley wrapped up in a warm coat, a green hat upon his head and matching gloves on his hands. The blue welly boots took no persuasion at all as Hugo launched himself into them in anticipation of finally getting outside.

Hermione had looked out their window just a few hours before and worried that the snow covered landscape would upset him. He had told her with a smile and a kiss that the dash of snow across their garden, and the snow covered landscape of the village beyond. was very different from the one he had experienced.

And besides, the roar of glee that erupted from Hugo as he dashed out into the snow was enough to banish the memories for a while.

He was wrapped up and headed out into the garden before he knew it.

It was the little things that made all the difference.

A watch with an alarm that he hadn't been able to turn off.

A decidedly lopsided snowman built with his son.

And...the spell he'd cast without thinking, and without a hint of a shake, to warm them up when they returned to the house.

END.


End file.
